Asgard's Next Top Model
by glambertcello
Summary: Thor gets discovered by a modeling agency. The rest of the Avengers have no idea what to do. Oneshot. Ending's kind of a fail, but I tried. I do not own any of the Avengers!


Bruce Banner had _really_ not wanted to retrieve Tony and Thor from a bar. The moment Thor had realized he could make Midgardian money by placing a bet—usually a drinking bet, because Thor just _sucked_ at guessing the end of murder-mystery television shows—the two had been at it, getting wasted a couple times a week for the past month. And Thor was beginning to gain quite a bit of cash. _Tony's going to have to stop this sometime soon,_ Bruce told himself as he helped Natasha shove an unconscious Tony into the back seat of his own car. _Thor's starting to get too much money._

And, honestly, Thor deserved the money. Usually, whenever one of the Avengers came to pick them up—they really had no choice, because Thor had gotten himself banned from riding any taxi in the city—Thor was completely aware of what was going on, while he was carrying Tony marriage-style out to meet them. Although, he wasn't _completely_ in his full condition; he kept swaying, and could not walk in a straight line. But, for looking like a human being—which he was not—he would fare his drinking contests considerably well.

But, obviously, the Avengers were too afraid to teach Thor how to drive, so he couldn't take Tony and himself home. Who knew what kind of road rage he would get? Also, Tony couldn't take himself home, not without hitting _something_ and killing himself. Or passing out behind the wheel.

They had learned the hard way that sending Clint to pick the boys up would lead to him _joining_ Thor's drinking game, and they would have to pick up three instead of two.

And nobody trusted Steve with the car. He was too likely to get lost, and he was also, believe it or not, _horrible_ at driving.

So Bruce and Natasha had developed a system: together, they would go to pick up the drunk men. One of them would take the car they had arrived in back to Stark Tower. The other would drive Tony's car. It was effective, but Bruce was getting _really_ tired of it. As was Natasha.

"I swear," the Russian woman told Thor as she ushered him into the front seat of Tony's car, "if you have _another_ drinking bet with Tony this week, I will personally come after you and put you in another one of those freefall cages that S.H.I.E.L.D. has. You remember what happened last time?"

The blond god nodded, probably thinking about his adopted brother tricking him into jumping into it and then sending him in a freefall towards the earth. Everyone knew the god was lucky to have gotten out of it, and he knew it too. Because of that, he hadn't been too fond of anything that looked similar to the cage since. It was a good enough of a threat for him to apologize. "I am sorry, and will not do it for a while more."

"Good," said Natasha, giving him a glare. Turning back to the doctor, she told him, "Okay, it's your turn to drive the kids. I'll take the other vehicle back. See you back at Stark Tower." She left swiftly, not waiting for Bruce to even get in Tony's car. Like always. She was in a hurry to get back and return to her sleep.

Frustrated at his unlucky evening—he had been in the process of discovering something new when Natasha had barged into the lab, telling him that Thor had taken someone's cell phone and had somehow managed to call her from the bar—he climbed in behind the wheel, and started Tony's car. Immediately, he was met by JARVIS's voice, because of _course_ Tony had to program him into everything he owned. _Would you like for me to give you directions back to Stark Tower?_

"No thanks, JARVIS," he said, putting the gear into drive and beginning to head in the direction of the tower. "Tony and Thor have come to this bar several times; I know how to get to Stark Tower from here."

_Okay. Would you like for me to play some of the music Tony programmed for when Thor is in the car?_

Bruce shook his head and said, "No thanks," as Thor said, "YES!" Bruce gave him a glare, and said, "_No_, JARVIS. I've already got a headache, and I'm not in the mood for listening to the heavy metal stuff that Thor likes."

_Very well._

"But I wanted to listen to music," Thor pouted, acting like a three-year-old who was being denied of a toy. "I am fond of Midgardian music."

"No, Thor," the doctor said forcefully, taking a left turn.

They drove along in silence for nearly fifteen minutes, which Bruce thoroughly enjoyed. The last few times it had been his turn to drive Tony's vehicle, the genius-slash-billionaire-slash-playboy-slash-philanthropist hadn't reached the level of unconsciousness, and had been singing some of his horrible music at the top of his lungs. It had been unbearably out of tune, and had provoked Thor into joining, causing Bruce to have a headache. He was _extremely_ thankful that Tony was out this time.

But, as they were nearing Stark Tower, Thor asked the doctor, "Doctor Banner, what is an agency of modeling?"

Momentarily ignoring the randomness of this question—Thor _constantly_ had random questions, even more than Steve—Bruce replied, "Do you remember those advertisements on television? The ones whose purpose is to gain customers for a certain product? Well, modeling agencies recruit those people, as well as the people you see in magazines. And then there's fashion models, which walk around and advertise whatever clothes they are wearing. It mostly has an advertising purpose."

And then, Bruce felt himself freeze. Oh… no, this couldn't be happening. _Please tell me he heard something on TV,_ he chanted to himself as he asked, "Where have you heard of modeling agencies, Thor?"

As if it was no big deal, Thor shrugged. "While the man of iron was exchanging kisses with a random lady at the bar, this pretty woman came up to me—she's not as pretty as my Jane, though—informed me of her dealings with this agency of modeling, and told me to contact her so we could engage in business. And then she handed me some sort of card." Out of his pocket, he pulled the woman's business card. "I think it sounds like a good time. I wish to contact her."

The doctor let out a very loud groan, causing Thor to look at him in concern. "Are you becoming ill, doctor?"

* * *

"Okay, seriously," Clint whined from where he sat on the sofa, "_why_ are you calling an emergency meeting? It's not like everyone is _here_; Thor and Tony are both upstairs, asleep." He had been sound asleep when Bruce and Natasha returned with the drunk men, and then had been rudely awakened by Natasha shaking him, saying the doctor was calling an emergency meeting.

Clint nodded at Natasha as she replied, "Clint's got a point." _Damn right I've got a point,_ he thought as she continued. "What's so important that you have to tell us now, but leave out the other two? I don't seem to understand." She was looking at the doctor from where she sat, giving him a quizzical look. Thank goodness the Russian woman was as confused as Clint; he wouldn't have to feel embarrassed for not being as bright as her later.

Steve was about as confused, a crease in his brow as he thought. But, that really wasn't saying much; Steve was _always_ confused. But even Pepper looked lost, and she was usually on top of things.

"Explain, please," Pepper said from her seat on the armrest of the recliner. "I'd like to know why I was woken up."

Pushing his hands into his pockets, Doctor Banner removed a little card, which looked like a business card. "This was handed to Thor tonight, and he's interested in it." And he handed it over to Pepper, who immediately slapped her hand over her mouth.

Looking up at Bruce in astonishment, she said, "I-I never would've… _wow._ I mean, I guess it makes sense, but _wow._ How'd this happen?"

Beginning to get frustrated that he had no idea what Pepper was talking about, Clint shouted like a little kid, "What?! I want to see!" Pepper reached across the living room furniture, and slipped the little business card into his hand. And, the moment he read the words on it, he burst out laughing.

It was a simple business card, with the name Josephine Belrose on it. And then, inscribed below it were two words: Modeling Agent.

"OH MY GOD!" Clint cried as he laughed. Doubling over on the couch, he tried to stop long enough to catch his breath, but he just _couldn't_. It was _way_ too funny. In the process of laughing, he somehow managed to hand the card over Natasha, who was now trying to look unamused. But, even the straight-faced assassin couldn't suppress the smile that was beginning to show on her face.

Steve, however, kept a straight face. He seemed to be more horrified than amused. "What are we going to do to stop this?" he asked, his voice sounding panicked. "When Thor finds something he wants _really badly_, it will be really hard to convince him otherwise. Remember the Pop Tart incident?" Clint and the others shook their head at the horrific memory; Thor had almost destroyed a Wal-Mart because they didn't have his favorite kinds of Pop Tarts in stock. It had caused so much stress on the rest of the Avengers that Bruce nearly hulked out.

"That was bad," Clint said. "And the worst part is, Thor's going to let it get to his head. He's not exactly ignorant of his good looks. Not that I've… umm… noticed his good looks," he added when Natasha gave him a weird look.

"Not to mention terrorizing the modeling agency," Pepper pointed out, removing the attention from Clint, which he was thankful for. "He constantly forgets that being a god doesn't account for much on Earth. He might cause damage if they don't meet his every need."

"And who says this isn't a scam?" Natasha pointed out.

"Yeah," chimed in Steve, "like that one episode of _Everybody Loves Raymond._ Tony has forced me to watch a couple of episodes in his 'reculturing' sessions. The show's not bad, I must say. But it would be really bad if Thor got his hopes up at being a model, only to find out it was a scam to get his money. He might send his wrath on them."

"Or cry," Pepper added, not at all teasing. Even though Thor was a god, he tended to act like a little kid when things didn't go his way. None of them would put crying past him.

Silence settled over them for a couple of seconds before Bruce began to speak again. "So we all agree that we need to keep Thor from getting too involved in this."

"Here here!" Clint said, raising an imaginary glass in a toast.

"Good. Now we've just got to find out what we need to do." Everyone became quiet again, brainstorming what they needed to do to keep the god of thunder's anger in check, and still keep him from becoming a fashion model.

Finally, Pepper opened her mouth. "Actually, I have a good idea. What we need to do is let Thor have his moment of modeling, but we need to be able to supervise the event. We should…" She told them the details, and when she finished, there was silence.

Clint couldn't deny it; it was a brilliant idea. "Let's do it," he said, and the other Avengers agreed. "It will involve a lot of work, and possibly tearing apart Stark Tower, but it's got to be done if we want to keep Thor satisfied."

They all nodded, and set to work, ignoring their earlier protests about sleep.

* * *

The next morning, Tony stumbled out of bed with one of his worst hangovers _ever_. Immediately fitting sunglasses on over his eyes and swallowing aspirin that Pepper must have placed by his alarm clock, he decided he needed to find food. He doubted eating something would make him feel better, but he just wanted to do _something._ Laying in bed was out of the question.

That's how, two minutes later, he was standing in his living room, which didn't look like a living room at all.

The first thing Tony took in was that all of his furniture had been moved out of place, and some background paintings and background covers were hanging all over the place. Then, a short but really pretty woman with a camera caught his attention. She was taking pictures of… was that _Thor?!_

Thor was dressed fashionably—not at all in his normal cape and armor, which he refused to trade out for jeans and a t-shirt, claiming it would make him appear weak, should his fellow Asgardians pay him a visit—in black slacks and a white button-down shirt. He had a fan blowing on him, which was rustling his golden curls. Oh, and then there were the sunglasses. Tony should've known something was seriously wrong, because Thor did _not_ like sunglasses, claiming them to be ridiculous and unnecessary.

It was almost like Thor was in a fashion shoot.

And on the outskirts stood all of the Avengers and Pepper, watching and smirking to themselves in amusement.

Blinking, Tony muttered something to himself about still being drunk before returning to his bed, where he wouldn't have to handle Thor being Asgard's Next Top Model.


End file.
